


Don't You Fret My Dear, It'll All Be Over Soon (And I'll Be Waiting Here For You)

by smokeandjollyranchers



Series: Kingdom Come [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: AU, Assembly!Bren and Cult Leader!Jester, BRUH A LOT WENT DOWN THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Unresolved Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 08:56:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18634927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeandjollyranchers/pseuds/smokeandjollyranchers
Summary: Bren does another couple sweeps through the building, and doesn’t find much besides a few drawings that look like dicks, honestly. He leaves as quickly as he’s come, mind racing as he walks back towards the Assembly. Who is the Traveler? How has he amassed this many followers? How big are the balls on their leader.  He pops his fingers, shoving them back into his pockets as he walks.He’s curious now, he’ll admit.





	Don't You Fret My Dear, It'll All Be Over Soon (And I'll Be Waiting Here For You)

Bren walks through the empty building, it used to be a temple to the Dawnfather, but there had been some structural damage under an unrelated incident, and deemed unsafe for the public. So when there had been reports of people fucking around in the Temple, the Crownsguard had gone in expecting to clear out some teenagers. 

Bren was called in instead. 

He looks around, there’s scattered papers and it looks like people might have been sleeping in here, but that’s not what concerns him. What concerns him is the paint on the walls in the main sanctuary, over the iconography of the Dawnfather. It’s a large, eight foot door, leading out into the world. Around him, he sees smears of charcoal, and the faint smell of incense. Curled around the top of the door, there’s a scrawling script. He takes his time, sitting down and casting, until the words on the wall crawl into Zemnian, and he’s able to read it. 

_ We walk with the Traveler. _

It’s... _ bold _ , he thinks, to come into the Capital city, and paint your Heretic God on the walls. Bren smiles, fingers twitching as he looks around, counting footprints, at least fifteen distinct prints, at least  _ fifteen _ people in this cult, to this god he’s never heard of before. 

_ And they came to the Capital _ . 

Bren does another couple sweeps through the building, and doesn’t find much besides a few drawing that look like dicks, honestly. He leaves as quickly as he’s come, mind racing as he walks back towards the Assembly. Who is the Traveler? How has he amassed this many followers?  _ How big are the balls on their leader _ .  He pops his fingers, shoving them back into his pockets as he walks. 

He’s curious now, he’ll admit.

* * *

 

Jester sits in the Raven Queen’s temple, listening to the city outside the window. 

Rexxentrum is  _ boring.  _ Sure, there’s art and food and people and it’s  _ new _ , but there’s something suffocating these people. It sits in the air, setting on the shoulders of it’s people like snow. Jester’s eyes stare at the lights flickering on in the city, in the other temples, and she sighs. It’s boring, but it’s  _ very _ pretty. “Do you think the Gods in the sky light the stars up, like people do in the city?”

Behind her, Oxten scoffs, looking at Jester over her shoulder. The Half Orc woman shakes her head, before turning her attention back to the wall with the Raven Queen’s portrait, paintbrush in hand. “High Priestess, you say the strangest shit, you know?”

“I  _ told _ you to just call me Jester.”

“If the Traveler names you a High Priestess, you should be referred to as such.”

“It’s so  _ structured _ though,” Jester pouts. “I liked when I was just Jester.”

“You’ve always been the front leader though, filled with reckless abandon, and dick jokes.”

“What?” Jester turns away from the city now, coming to stand with her friend. Oxten has the first half of the door painted, and Jester smiles at the comfort it brings. “You think I’m being reckless?”

“This is the  _ Raven Queen’s  _ Temple, it’s no small sin, what you’re doing.”

“Sin for  _ who?”  _ Jester scoffs, setting up the altar underneath the door. “He told me this would be the right way.”

“Who are we to question the wisdom of the Traveler?”

“Exactly.”

* * *

 

Bren stands at the back of the group, hood pulled far over his face. 

Around him, most everyone looked the same, faces hidden to varying degrees, but there was a camaraderie in this room that he hadn’t been expecting. People greeted each other, asking how they’ve been, some of them introducing themselves. There’s a kindness in the room that he carefully keeps himself hidden from. 

Bren has been tracking the movement of they symbol through the city, and it hadn’t been too hard to recognize it after, so he’s followed it. From one alley, one tavern, one temple to the next. When he’d figured out they were gunning for the Raven Queen’s Temple, it had been easy enough to slip in with the rest of them. He doesn’t have any back up, doesn’t have any way to take this many people down, he just wants to see what he’s up against. 

Looking past the groups of people, towards the front, he sees a woman in a green cloak. Her hands move excitedly as she speaks, and he sees flashes of blue and pink. When he moves a little closer, he catches a glimpse of her face, sharp teeth, beaming smile, violet eyes. She’s young, younger than he would’ve guessed for a cult leader, but everything about this seems  _ new _ . 

He stays for a couple hours, and mostly, they all share stories of what they’ve seen, what they’ve done, what they remember. There’s about twenty people there, with a range of accents and features and Bren is almost impressed. This is a large gathering of very random people, all of which seem delighted by the defacing of the Temple. 

_ Absolutely amazing. _

* * *

 

Jester sits in a tavern, sketching viciously by window light as she commits the last day to her memory. 

The meeting at the Raven Queen’s Temple had been the biggest so far, and she gleefully draws the faces of the new people she’s met, and the ones who came back, and all the stories they told. She doesn’t often think about how... _ powerful _ this is, how their numbers are growing and how none of them are lonely anymore. She hums, looking down at her notebook, and she tilts her head. 

There’s a face drawn there that she doesn’t remember seeing. It’s also not much of a face, obscured by a hood, but there’s a firmness to the frown, and she furrows her brow. The ink it’s drawn in is a vibrant green, and she knows He left this for her. 

_ Who’s this? _

_ He’s going to hurt you _ . He answers her, his voice in the crackle of the fire, and the beating of her heart in her ears. 

Jester traces the scowl on the face, and she tilts her head. 

“Why would he want to hurt us?”

* * *

 

Bren leans against the wooden table, disinterested look on his face. 

Secured to the slab, the half orc woman snarls and thrashes, eyes hard as she watches him. He taps his fingers against the wood, and she pulls against the restraints. “Fuck you.”

“Flattered.” He answers, smile on his face. “Weirdly enough, I don’t have a lot of time to meet people. Tell me her name.”

“I promise you I’d rather die than give you her name, so let’s just skip to that part.”

Bren sighs, shaking his head. “You know, people always say that, and people  _ rarely _ mean it. So, I’m offering you a chance to not have to find out what kind of person you are. Tell me, and I’ll leave you alive. I don’t  _ want _ to hurt you, but know that I  _ will.” _

The woman glares at him, a bitter smile on her face. 

“I know what kind of person I am.”

“Show me.”

* * *

 

Jester waits in the shadows, tears in her eyes. 

_ She’ll kill him. She’ll kill him for this.  _

She’s there an hour, two, three, and she doesn’t move, she barely breathes into the darkness, waiting,  _ simmering _ . Jester isn’t used to this...this  _ sorrow _ , this gaping emptiness inside her, it’s been so long since she felt alone and it  _ hurts. _ Oxten has been missing for two days and the Traveler sent her here. She waits, patiently, until finally there’s movement, finally there’s someone there. It’s a man, with vibrant red hair and tired eyes. 

She waits, not sure if this is who she’s looking for. Until he throws his hood over his head, and she can see the line of his frown. 

_ You _ . 

She whispers into cupped hands, and exhales, green flashing underneath the man’s feet and he freezes, unable to move. Jester ducks through the shadows, jumping on his back, knife to his throat. She can feel him straining against her spell, trying to see her from the corner of his eyes. Drawing in a breath, she presses the dagger against his throat. “Is she dead? Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

He growls, fighting against her spell and Jester presses the dagger harder, until his breath hitches. 

“ _ Is she dead, yes or no?!” _

He narrows his eyes at her, and she’s nearly floored by the  _ coldness _ of his stare. 

He blinks.

Jester snarls, hands shaking as she pulls her knife from his throat. Tears flood her eyes and she chokes back a sob, hopping off his back. “Touch my people again, and I’ll  _ kill _ you.”

She leaps away, disappearing through her door and back to where she had the sewer gate pried open. Jester hops into the darkness, and another of her followers,Samson reaches up, pulling the gate back into place. They help her to her feet, wiping tears from her eyes. “What happened?!”

“They  _ killed _ her.” Jester wails, falling into their chest. “They fucking killed her!”

Sam wraps their arm around her. “....We need to leave the capital, it’s not safe anymore, it never was.”

Her gut says  _ no _ . No, she wants to  _ stay _ , she wants to stay and fight and  _ kill _ that fucking man. But Sam is right, she needs to get the rest of them out of there, quickly. Before anymore of them can die. Jester takes a shuddering breath, and she feels a hand pressed against her back. 

_ You’ll get your chance,  _ The Traveler whispers.  _ I promise _ . 

* * *

 

It’s two years before Bren sees her again, and he’s pretty sure she’s going to kill him. 

He hadn’t even been  _ looking _ for her, he was down on the coast for something else, a ring he needed to bust. But when that went as wrong as it possibly could, he took off, a half-giant fist sized bruise on his side, and as he runs, he’s  _ fairly _ certain he’s bleeding internally, because his vision keeps swimming. So when he turns a corner around the alley, and is punched so hard he hears the bricks crack underneath him, he figures this is some fairly bad karma. 

A hand grabs his face, wrenching his face up, and his eyes clear to violet, and he  _ laughs _ . “Oh, I can’t believe this.”

“You again?” The Cult Leader asks, kneeling down in front of him. She looks tired, hardened, he’s sorry about it almost, she’d had such a nice smile. “Looks like you’re dying.”

“Ah, that explains why I feel like I’m dying too.” He grins, wondering if that rushing in his ears was blood or wind. “Were you working with the smugglers?”

“No, but this is fate, isn’t it? I was always going to kill you, someday.”

Her hand pushes his hair out of his face, and he stares at her, the way the hatred flashes in her eyes. His visions swims and he feels his consciousness slip, leaving him at the mercy of the Cult Leader. Bren laughs. “If anyone could, I’ll believe it’s you.”

* * *

Jester sits on a table while Samson binds the mage to the bed, his breathing labored. 

It feels  _ weird _ , not healing someone all the way, but she can’t risk him being strong enough to escape. She isn’t sure  _ what  _ she’s planning to get from this, but it’s better than letting him waste away to nothing in the streets of Nicodranas.  _ Not in her hometown _ . She won’t have his blood taint the sand here. Sam finishes, putting their hands on their hips. “That should hold him, but...why?”

“I don’t know yet. He hasn’t told me.” Jester sighs, sliding off the desk and coming over to the bed where the mage was bound, and she looks him over. He’s  _ riddled _ with scars, and bruises, even before Jester’s attempts to heal him, but she was mostly interested in his arms. There’s slivers of color under his skin, in shades of green, red and blue. She runs her fingers across them, surprised to find how  _ cold _ they are, and she looks back to Sam. 

“Will you go find Dystan, I want him to take a look at this.” Jester mumbles, continuing to look him over. She sees a scar near his neck, that if she didn’t know better, she would think it’s the one she gave him, but why wouldn’t he have something so minor healed? Sam hesitates, their eyes resting on the mage, and they shake their head. 

“Terrible idea to leave you alone.”

“I’m never alone.” She dismisses them, and she waits a beat, before leaning over and smacking the mage a couple times. He blinks once before his eyes flash and he immediately starts trying to cast, but his arms are bound and his body  _ aches _ . He tries to curl into himself, groaning. He mutters something she can’t understand, but she waits for him realize where he is. He blinks at her, groaning. “You didn’t kill me?”

“It didn’t seem right to.  _ I’m _ not a murderer.”

He scoffs, testing his bonds. “That’s unfortunate for you.”

Jester stares at him, and he winces, looking away from her. “Who are you?”

“What?”

“Who are you?” She repeats, eyes narrowing. “Why did you watch us? Why did you kill Oxten? Why are you here now? How high in the Cerberus Assembly are you?”

“I’m not with the Assembly.” He lies to her, and Jester narrows her eyes, her jaw clenching as she goes to lean over him, grabbing his face. 

“I see the runes burnt into your skin, I see the scars on your skin, I see how easily you kill, I see how many people want to kill  _ you _ , I can  _ tell _ , now tell me how high the fuck up you are.” Her voice is low, dangerous, and he watches her carefully. He isn’t afraid of her, no, why would he be? He doesn’t understand who she is, he doesn’t know what he’s dealing with either. “Why did you watch us?”

“Perhaps, and I’m guessing here, if the Assembly was watching you,  _ perhaps _ you should’ve kept your cult a secret? Probably shouldn’t have taken it inside the Empire,  _ absolutely _ shouldn't’ have destroyed Temples and left a wreck in your path.”

Jester leans back, so she’s sitting on the edge of his bed, and she listens to his labored breathing. “What kind of a country outlaws  _ worship?! _ At what point do the decisions of one little man with a  _ stupid _ name decide the way of life for all their people?”

“It’s a  _ Kingdom. _ ” He spits at her, eyes narrowed. “The King gets a say. No matter how stupid his name is.”

“Who do you worship?” Jester asks the man, and he blinks for a second, relaxing into his restraints. 

“I don’t.”

“Really? Not a single one of your approved Gods has spoken to you?”

“No.”

“Then you haven’t been talking to the right Gods.” She shakes her head, looking back over to him. “You lack of faith was no reason to test  _ ours _ .”

“I didn’t…” He sighs, looking back up to her. “I was following orders.”

“What kind of monster orders your to wipe out a church?!” Jester asks, her eyes glancing at his arms. “The same kind that does  _ that _ to someone? What are those, by the way? Far as I can  _ guess _ , they’re gems or jewels or something... _ horrible _ . Do you know that? What they’ve done to you is horrible?”

Those cold eyes thaw with his anger, and she sees a brightness in him she hasn’t yet. A crack in his armor, proof that there’s something  _ alive _ in there. His jaw clenches, but he refuses to speak to her. Jester isn’t sure what she’s planning to get from this, but she’s hoping for something more than just antagonizing her friend’s killer. This seems pointless, but she can’t bring herself to stop. 

She feels a hand on her shoulder, a whisper over his glare.  _ His name is Bren, he guards it with his life. Show him what he’s up against. _

Jester reaches over to push some of his hair out of his face, so she can see the rage in those eyes, the thing that’s still alive. “I don’t know who you are, Bren, but I know who the people you  _ serve _ are.”

He goes paler when she says his name, some of his fight leaves his body, he’s  _ nervous _ . “How-”

“I assume you’re decent at what you do, you  _ must _ be, if you got Oxten on your own, if you were able to follow us around, if you’ve seen what we do. But you should know, I’m  _ exceptional _ at what I do, and I know more than you do. And I don’t think you’re the kind of person who likes being unprepared, are you?”

“Look, I’ve never been one for last words or punishing conversation.” He mutters, glaring at her again, a fraction of what it was. “If you’re going to kill me, I’d rather you just do that.”

“Why did you kill my friend?”

He blinks at her, before turning away, eyes focused on the ceiling. “I was trying to get your name.”

“Did she tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

She ignores him and the shattering in her chest, running a finger over the slivers of color on his arm again, and he  _ tenses _ beneath her, like he’s expecting the greatest pain, and Jester realizes she’s starting to feel  _ badly _ for this beast. “I don’t see a world where I could ever forgive you for what you’ve done. But I’m not an idiot, you’re the monster your handler made you out to be. I mean, what chance did you have right? Look what they were willing to do to  _ you _ , and you’re on  _ their  _ side. So I just want you to know, that when we gave you the same odds you gave her, we were better than you. We  _ are  _ better than you.”

* * *

When Bren wakes next, he’s alone in that same room. 

The silence around him is deafening, and he sits up, surprised to find his arms free, surprised to find there’s no pain in his shoulders, in his body. Looking down, he sees himself healed, completely. 

_ We are better than you. _

He traces his finger across the scar near his neck, getting to his feet. 

He still doesn’t know her name.

* * *

Jester is chained. 

She sits in a jail cell, and she tries to keep a smile on her face. For three days, she’s been sitting in the darkness, talking. She talks about everything she’s seen, and everything she still has plans to do, and everything she regrets, and everything she doesn’t. Over and over, she talks, she prays, and the Traveler listens to her. It’s very kind of him, she thinks, to stay with her like he is. They’d taken her holy symbol, she can’t cast, he can’t speak to her, but still he stays. He won’t leave her alone, not like this, not at the end. She feels his hand on her shoulder, and it’s enough to keep her strong in this darkness. 

Jester is pretty sure she hears footsteps coming, but it’s hard to keep sounds figured out here. Everything echoes, everything is confusing. She’s pretty sure she knocked her head around pretty good when she was taken, she’s pretty sure she hasn’t eaten either. They keep her weak, they keep her in the dark, they’re trying to break her.

She won’t give them the satisfaction. 

Outside her cell, she sees movement, and someone comes to sit on the floor outside her cell, waiting. Jester lifts her head, blinking a couple times before she’s able to put a name to the face, and she scoffs, resting her head on her hand. “ _ Hiiiiiiiii Bren _ .”

He waves at her, small smile on his face. He looks  _ worse _ than she’d last seen him, and Jester wonders if he spends the entirety of his life in varying degrees of pain. She’s pretty sure he’s bleeding onto the floor next to him, and she can see a patchwork of wounds across his face and chest. People who aren’t allowed to be made whole have a tendency to go mad, she wonders how much time he has left. “You’ve caught some bad luck.”

“You could call it bad luck, you could call it the Empire stealing me from a place they had no jurisdiction over me, but you know, I don’t think they’d see it that way. Was it you?”

“It wasn’t.” He shakes his head. “I’ve just gotten back from something pretty far East, heard they had you. Had to come see if it were actually you.”

“They took me from Port Damali, which again, not your territory, but something tells me no one cares.”

Bren shakes his head, leaning a little closer. “Sometimes, they don’t play fair.”

“I feel like it’s more than sometimes.” 

He watches her, and she wonders if he can even  _ see _ her in this darkness. “I don’t know your name.”

“My name? I’m really not sure I want to give it to you.”

“Fair enough, either way.” He reaches into his pocket and tosses something at her, a little wide, but she manages to catch it. Her Holy Symbol sits warm in her hands, intact, and with it, she can hear the Traveler again, feel the magic spark at her fingertips. 

“Why-”

“You spared me once. Well, twice, technically, and like you said. It wasn’t a fair grab.” He groans, getting to his feet. “You are going to have to fight me if you want to leave but-”

“But you’ve made it easy.” She realizes, looking at him curl into himself. “...Will someone heal you when I’m gone?”

“Ah, I’m sure someone will.” He stretches, and she can see a key hanging from his side. “Besides, if they’re dumb enough to send someone so wounded up here, they should see what happens.”

“They wanted you to identify me?”

“Best I could, considering I only know what your face looks like through crowds and pain, I’ve never gotten that good a look.”

“And you still don’t know my name.”

“And I still don’t know your name.”

She stands, taking a step towards him, and then she’s behind him, suddenly, one hand on the key, the other in the center of his back. “It’s Jester, by the way.”

A few words are whispered and he falls to the ground unconscious. 

She’s gone three hours before anyone even finds him. 

* * *

They meet once, on accident, in Xhorhas. 

Jester meets his eyes, and she smiles, but pulls her hood up and leads her people away. 

Bren smiles back, a weird stutter to his heartbeat. 

He’s glad Jester is alive. 

* * *

Jester sobs, leaning over the bodies of two of her followers, and the missing rest of them. 

She knows who took them, she knows what they can do, she knows what they’re capable of. With shaking hands, she whispers into the darkness around her, tainted with blood. 

_ Bren, I need your help, please. I’m up North, and most of my people were taken or killed and I...I have to save them. _

She wants to tell him she can’t do this alone, but the spell stops her, and she waits in agonizing silence. For a moment, a minute, two minutes. 

_ I’ll be there soon. _

She never thought she would be relieved to hear his voice. 

* * *

Bren doesn’t know why he’s agreed to this. 

But he did agree, and it hadn’t been too hard, a struggle sure, people died, lots of people died. He’s pretty sure he’s been stabbed a couple times, but for the  most part, everyone lived. He watches them, the seven that are left of Jester’s congregation, and she cries and holds each of them against her. 

She’s suffered immeasurable loss in a short amount of time, some of it his fault directly, most of it his fault indirectly, but they’re  _ even _ now. He drains his glass in front of him, leaving a couple coins on the table and stumbles up to his room, where he’s got a needle, thread and some whiskey to pour on a couple wounds, and then he’s going to sleep for the next twelve hours. At which point, if they’re smart, the Travelers will be gone, and he can get back to his life. 

Shutting the door behind him, he peels off his shirt, opening a couple wounds as he does, and he groans, sitting down on his bed. He takes a couple pulls from the bottle before he pours it over his fingers, and starts poking at his wounds. There’s a knock at the door and he calls for them to come in, he’s waiting on towels from the barkeep anyways. 

He’s not expecting Jester. 

She lifts an eyebrow at his fingers, and his needle, before she pushes his hands away. “Why are you so capable but so  _ stupid _ , holy shit.”

“I figured you had better uses for your spells, and I’m fine-”

“I don’t think you’ve been  _ fine _ since the last time I healed you fully, and that was a while ago.”

It was, and she might be right. He doesn’t tell her that though, instead, he waits silently as she whispers, her hand pressed against his wound. Heat radiates from otherwise cold palms, and his pain seeps away, leaving relief behind. Bren exhales the breath he’s been holding, and Jester smiles a little. 

“Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do, thank you for...doing this. For helping me.”

“I owed you, it’s no trouble.”

“You almost died.”

“I always almost die.”

“Then you’re not very good at your job.” Jester lifts an eyebrow at him, and he laughs, shrugging. 

“Maybe I’m not.” 

“Maybe you should quit and run away and live a better life, where they don’t keep you trapped and hurt and bleeding all the time.” Jester suggests, her eyes on his as she says it. He swallows, unsure of what her tone  _ means _ . 

“I’m a monster, remember? It’s better I stay with other monsters.” He whispers, half joking, half hoping to remind her exactly  _ what _ he is, and what he’s done. She’s better than him, he hopes she hasn’t forgotten that. 

She makes a face at that, tapping his nose with her finger. “That might’ve been a  _ little _ unfair, what I told you-”

“It wasn’t.”

“Whatever you  _ are _ , you aren’t a monster, even if that would be easier for you. I’ll bet I can prove it.”

“You think so?” He asks, looking down at the blood on his hands, some of it his, most of it not. “You think I’m salvageable?”

“No,” She whispers. “I think you’re  _ good _ .”

Bren isn’t sure who moves first, but then his mouth is against hers and he’s  _ kissing her _ , his hand in her hair, his arm wrapped around her waist. There’s something  _ good _ in him, something she says she sees, and he falls into her, trusting her, she’s never lied to him before. Jester kisses him back, her tongue tracing his bottom lip and he falls back into his bed, her body over his. 

Clothes disappear, fingers trace skin, trace scars. Jester has a story for all of hers, Bren can’t remember how he’s gotten most of his, but they tell each other what they can remember, what they know. She kisses him, whispering that he should  _ run _ , join her, join them, she’s so  _ sure _ he could be happy with them. Bren listens to her, kissing from her neck, her shoulders, her collarbones, her breasts, her nipples, her stomach, down, down, down, until Jester’s hand is in his hair, and her head thrown back. 

For the first night in his life, Bren worships. 

* * *

When Jester wakes up the next morning, she reaches for him next to her. 

She’s surprised he’s still there, and she rolls onto his chest, watching his eyes. Bren smiles at her, pushing her bangs from her face. “Thought you would hate me if I left.”

“I would’ve.”

“I can’t stay.”

“I know.”

“It would paint a brighter target on you.”

“Have I fallen into bed with someone important?”

“Sort of.”

“You’ll come though? If I call?”

“I don’t see myself ever able to deny you.” He admits. 

Jester smiles, even if she wants to cry, and she kisses him again. She knew this, she knew this, but still, it’s hard to watch someone she apparently cares about go back to those people who hurt him. He wraps his arms around her, and flips them again, so he can tower over her, so he can show her what he’s memorized. Jester kisses him, softly, words whispered between them. 

_ Don’t you die out there _ . 

Bren kisses her harder, reverently, her head between his arms. 

_ My life is yours to give _ . 

Jester wants to believe him, she knows he’s not lying. He will come if she calls, and she plans to call, but there’s others out there, other forces, faces and names she doesn’t know, who gamble with his life too. She’s seen them almost throw him away once, maybe even twice, and it leaves her filled with a fire she doesn’t recognize. So she kisses him, she kisses him and moans, and moves against him and she plans her attack against the Empire, happy to bring it down if it meant she could keep this body near hers. 

_ I’m going to save you someday _ she promises him, her teeth in his shoulder. 

Bren sighs, burying his face in her neck.  _ If anyone could, I believe it’s you _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> This originally started as a Tumblr prompt that was enemies to friends to lovers, and the words came POURING out. So I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> Youcanreplytomyunresolvedau


End file.
